


grace(less)

by tencitizens



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angels, Boys Kissing, I’ll add more members and ships as I write, Light Angst, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Urban Fantasy, Xiaoyang, luren, markhyuck, yuwin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-10-24 21:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17711981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tencitizens/pseuds/tencitizens
Summary: Mark just wanted to eat his ramen and watch Netflix.A certain stranger falling into his life ruins those plans...Or: Angels and demons are real and Mark falls for one of the former.





	1. crash and fall

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone ~ this is my first fic on ao3, I hope you enjoy!  
> this is only chapter one, and be forewarned, regular updates are unlikely, but I will do my best!
> 
> p.s. shoutout to my beta-readers on twitter ~ @threeara, @minminyeol, @feelinlikegreen, and @rayth3ba3 ! Thank you so much, guys!
> 
> p.p.s. check out my twitter too @tencitizens uwu

Bundled into a blanket burrito to keep out the chill of his basement apartment, Mark precariously balanced his cup of noodles and chopsticks in one hand while he also balanced himself on the edge of the sofa, attempting to reach the TV remote. His laziness became his downfall, however, when a simultaneous crash of thunder and lightning startled him over the edge of the couch and onto the cold cement floor. By some miracle, he managed to save his noodles, and placed the cup carefully next to him while massaging his backside.

The storm outside raged, and the steady downpour did not help maintain warmth inside the basement. Mark lived alone and rented from the owners of the house who lived upstairs. Yuta and Sicheng were friends of his cousin, Taeyong, and they agreed to rent out the basement for some extra income, and Mark finally felt the independence he had been craving ever since he moved out for university. The only complaint he could have would be the temperature. Heat rises, and combined with the fact that half of the apartment was underground, science doomed his new residence to consistently be chilly, moreso in cold or rainy weather.

The house was built into a hill, so only one wall in the basement had two windows, which were also higher up than usual. They were only a few inches above the ground, and looked out to the small backyard. The neighboring room, separated by a wall perpendicular to the one with windows, housed his bedroom and a few stairs leading to his own private entrance that opened out to that backyard. This gave Mark and his “landlords” some extra privacy, even with their already friendly relationship. The other room that Mark was in at that moment, was half-living room, half-kitchen appliances and a small dining table.

Just as Mark settled himself back onto the couch and leaned down to pick up his beloved ramen again, another series of flashes outside drew his eye, and soon a boom of rolling thunder followed. Mark hadn’t been living in the apartment for that long, and he was seriously hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with the possibility of his new home becoming flooded. If the storm kept up at this strength, he was afraid it would become inevitable. He also felt concerned about the lightning, since its frequency had increased in the past half-hour. The possibility of downed-trees in the neighborhood could infringe upon his Netflix plans if power lines hung in the way of their descent.

Mark would soon learn that it wasn’t a _tree’s_ descent that would throw a wrench into his relaxation plans.

With his meal in one hand and the remote in the other, Mark had just pressed the power button when the room lit up once again from the lightning outside. There was a one second delay for the thunder, but that was not what caused Mark to drop the remote in shock.

An unexpected thump came from right outside one of his windows, and when Mark’s head whipped towards the sound, initially wondering if a tree limb had fallen, his jaw dropped at the sight before him. What was outside the window was most definitely not a tree limb – it itself had limbs, and they were moving. Mark remained frozen in his seat until a hand suddenly splayed across the glass, causing another startled jump from Mark, who blinked rapidly.

The thump of the person outside, and their sluggish movements suggested it had been some sort of bad fall that landed them next to Mark’s window, though Mark was unsure from where he could have fallen (unless the person had been standing on the roof in the middle of a thunderstorm, which was unlikely, and not to mention stupid). He was tempted to pick up his phone and call the police from the safety of his slightly chilly apartment, until he noticed something about the stranger outside, or specifically, the hand on his window. It was bloody.

Mind running a mile a minute, Mark knew deep inside that the situation screamed the beginning plot of a horror movie, but a stronger part of him felt intense worry and panic for the stranger. They were obviously injured somehow, and the storm outside continued to harshly pelt the figure, soaking them to the bone. Mark hesitated, but made his decision a moment later when the figure flipped over from his back to press his other hand against the window, revealing his face to the boy still seated inside.

The boy strained from the pain of his injuries, eyes tightly shut in a grimace. He leaned his forehead against the glass and opened his eyes, instantly making eye contact with an astonished Mark. In addition to the obvious pain, Mark could see the fear in his eyes, and he couldn’t resist the unspoken plea that their shared gaze communicated.

Shrugging off his blanket burrito and placing his now forgotten dinner on the coffee table, Mark bolted to the other room and to the entryway of his apartment. He threw on a coat and grabbed a baseball cap, despite the little good it would do him in the downpour outside. Slipping on some shoes, Mark rushed outside into the backyard and turned in the direction of the stranger that lay just a few feet away.

He seemed to have collapsed further, as his arms no longer pressed against the window but rather were splayed upon the ground while he lay on his stomach. As Mark got closer, the source of the blood became clear, yet was still puzzling. It seemed to originate from the stranger’s back, as two parallel, bloody tears in the white dress shirt he wore ran down his back and revealed identical tears in his skin. Although they didn’t seem to be dire injuries at first glance, the spread of stains on his shirt suggested otherwise. When Mark finally reached the stranger, who upon closer look seemed to be around his age, he discovered the boy to have passed out.

Mark checked his pulse, and was relieved to find it easily. He knew that the first thing to do was to get the stranger inside and out of the terrible weather, but with the boy unconscious, Mark worried about how he was to do so without further injuring him. He was contemplating dragging him by his feet to avoid the wounds on his back when the boy stirred. Mark immediately knelt down closer to him and tapped him on the arm.

“Hey,” Mark said over the cacophony of the storm around them, “are you okay?”

Mark cringed; of course he wasn’t ok, he was bleeding and had just passed out, probably from the pain. As the boy lifted his head and moved his arms in an effort to prop himself up again, Mark moved in tandem to support him by the shoulders. It was then that the boy registered his presence, it seemed, and his head snapped to the side to look at Mark. His eyes were wide open now, and Mark saw him open his mouth as if to say something, but instead his face contorted back into that of a grimace.

“Woah, woah, take it easy, you’re really hurt dude,” Mark cautioned, but the stranger continued to sit up, bending his legs into a kneeling position. It was then that Mark heard the boy’s first words to him, and it was not exactly what he was expecting.

“No shit, Sherlock,” he said through clenched teeth, his hands now supporting himself against his knees in clenched fists. Mark almost missed it because of a simultaneous rumble of thunder.

Mark bristled at the rude words, but let them slide for obvious reasons. He continued to support the boy’s shoulders, asking after a moment, “Can you stand? I can help you inside.”

It took a moment for the stranger to respond, as he lifted his head slowly in a nod. Mark steadied him as he rose, the boy leaning forward on him heavily in some sort of pseudo-hug. After a bit of position-shifting so they could walk, Mark led them both to the door he had exited minutes earlier, both of them dripping wet and moving quite slowly still.

Once inside, Mark slipped off his shoes and kicked them to the side, never releasing the injured boy. They stumbled a bit at the short stairs, but eventually he was able to guide the stranger to the couch. Surprisingly the boy remained silent throughout the short yet strenuous journey, though he did hiss in pain once when the door bumped him as it closed.

Mark helped the boy sit down on his couch, not caring about the inevitable bloodstains. As soon as he sat down, the boy lilted to the side, eyes suddenly closing, and Mark was just barely able to support his head before it crashed down on the arm of the couch. Now in an awkward crouch while he cradled the boy’s head in his hands, Mark panicked internally. This stranger, who he just brought bleeding and soaking wet into his home, was severely injured and seemed to have passed out a second time. He decided quickly to slide a pillow under the boy’s head and check his wounds first.

The boy’s back was exposed, as the once-white, billowy shirt he wore was strangely shredded on his back, and Mark once again took note of the two matching cuts down the length of the boy’s back. They did not seem as dire nor deep as they had when he glimpsed them outside, but Mark chalked that up to the poor visibility through the darkness and rain earlier. Still, the shirt was covered in a lot of blood, and Mark knew that the boy must have lost a lot of it, which was the most likely reason for the fainting. Moving to kneel next to the couch, he carefully shifted part of the boy’s shirt for a better look, but did not get very far. The pressure of a hand on his elbow startled Mark, and he looked down at the boy.

The boy’s eyes were hazy, but he was awake at least. Mark lowered himself to his eye-level, hoping the boy would be able to focus on his next words.

“You need to see a doctor, this doesn’t look good. I’ll call an ambulance. Try to stay conscious, okay?”

As the words processed, Mark witnessed a shift in the boy’s expression. The hand on his arm gripped tighter.

“No,” the boy grunted, closing his eyes, “I don’t need it, I can heal.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Mark had to scoff. “Uh, no you can’t. Not without stitches, at least, even I can tell you that.”

The boy’s grip only grew stronger, enough to start hurting. He opened his eyes and Mark suddenly felt that whoever this stranger was, he was staring into Mark’s eyes as intensely as if he were searching for Mark’s soul within them. Mark couldn’t help but be captivated by his gaze, noting the subtle sparkle of mischief in his eyes, even through the pain. The stranger was extremely cute, now that Mark could see his features properly.

Mark was released from his hypnotizing eyes when the boy smirked, confusing Mark. “I seem to be running a little low on grace tonight…” the boy whispered, his hand releasing Mark’s arm to travel up to his neck, eliciting a blush from Mark at the sudden and unexpected touch. “You wouldn’t mind lending me a bit of your spark to speed things up, would you?”

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, the boy’s words raising many questions. Any potential words, however, were silenced as the boy pulled Mark forward and crashed their lips together.

The kiss caused Mark to raise his arms in alarm, unsure what to do with them, and his eyes remained wide open for a moment until the boy tilted his head and they fluttered shut on their own. A tiny voice in the back of his mind was shouting to the heavens that this was wrong, they only just met, this boy was injured for Christ’s sake, they shouldn’t be making out! But in the moment, Mark couldn’t register anything except the movement, taste and pressure of the cute stranger’s lips against his own. Slowly, he began to kiss back, one hand settling in the boy’s damp brown hair, the other on the arm of the couch to steady himself.

To Mark, an eternity seemed to pass before the boy pulled away, both of them breathing heavily. A moment passed, and just as Mark began to come to his senses (and begin to listen to that tiny voice that was now getting louder), the boy’s head slumped onto the pillow again, a small smile on his face. “That should do it…” he murmured as his eyes closed again, once again falling unconscious.

A stunned Mark jumped to his feet, muttering a myriad of swears and leaning to check the boy’s back once again. He was determined to call 911 a moment later, but when his vision blurred and he stumbled forward, almost falling on top of the injured boy, Mark could tell something was wrong. His brain felt as if he was experiencing two migraines at once, and the room spun in a way that did not sit well with his stomach. Falling back down to his knees, Mark groaned.

His last thought, right before he himself passed out on the cold cement floor, was, “What kind of kiss was that?”


	2. mornings and migraines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark awakes, wondering if the Strange Boy had just been part of a dream.  
> He quickly realizes it wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy chapter two!  
> also, check out my twitter (@tencitizens), sometimes I post polls that could affect the rest of the plot :)

Waking up after sleeping on a cold, concrete floor elicited a pained groan from Mark the next morning. The headache from before hit him immediately after, albeit weaker than before. His clothes had dried overnight and stiffened uncomfortably. Mark sat up, holding his head in one hand and wincing. He vaguely noticed his blanket from last night falling to the side, and a pillow had found its way under his head, though he wasn’t the one to have covered himself nor grabbed the pillow last night, that was for sure.

The events of what had to have been a dream came back to him. The storm, Strange Boy, the…kiss. Mark’s face blushed against his will, and he shook his head to clear it before grimacing, as the movement made his head hurt more. Mark glanced around for clues as to why he was on the floor, when the couch next to him came into view.

The bloodstains. Instantly, Mark realized that had been no dream—it was real. The injured stranger had really fallen outside his window, and had really collapsed on his couch. But if that were so, where did he go? The bloodstains were the only sign of his presence in the apartment.

Mark stood to look around again, swaying as the pain in his head surged. He didn’t see the injured boy anywhere in the living room half of the room, nor the kitchen and dining area. If he was still in the apartment, Mark realized he must be on the other side of the basement, where his bedroom, bathroom, and the backyard entrance were.

No matter how much Mark wanted to find him, the migraine’s pain felt far more intense. He stumbled toward his mini-fridge for a bottle of water to wash down some much-needed ibuprofen. Mark’s depth perception seemed to be affected, however, resulting in a shock of pain as he banged his foot against the fridge. He dropped down to the floor, clutching his foot.

“Goddamn it,” Mark shouted, “what the fuck…”

The dual pains he felt distracted him enough to not notice another presence enter the room shortly after his exclamations. He only noticed Strange Boy’s presence behind the couch when he cleared his throat and quipped, “Please don’t mention my dad, it’s far too early in the morning for that,” then winked at the startled Mark.

The first thing Mark’s brain could comprehend was the stranger’s change of clothes. Was that his sweatshirt? And pants?  
The second were the boy’s words. The questions that arose from those two thoughts tumbled from his lips in a stutter: “What – who – my clothes – your dad?”

Strange Boy walked over to Mark, dropping down to his level in a crouch. He tilted his head and chuckled at Mark’s bewildered face. “You okay, down here?” Mark’s eyes widened when the boy reached out and poked him in the forehead, and observed the stranger’s face turn from a smile to a slight frown. He was about to reply when suddenly the boy grabbed his cheeks with both hands and pulled his face forward, squishing Mark’s face a bit. The sudden close proximity of their faces, for the second time since they had met, flustered Mark. His face once again turned red, as well as the tips of his ears, as he stared into Strange Boy’s eyes, gaze darting down to his lips, then back to his eyes.

The boy didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, it didn’t affect the frown he wore. “Seems I borrowed a bit too much grace… sorry about that,” he murmured.

Mark couldn’t stand their closeness for much longer. Grabbing the boy’s arms, he pushed them away, surprising the stranger, as if he hadn’t even noticed grabbing Mark’s face. Mark scooted himself backwards and used the mini-fridge to support him as he stood up.

“Okay, dude, look—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mark said, “but I accept your… apology?” He turned from the boy to walk toward his small dining table a few feet behind him, collapsing in one of the chairs after turning it to face the stranger. The pounding in his head continued.

An awkward silence followed, and Mark studied the boy in front of him. Strange Boy stood from his crouched position and looked anywhere except at Mark. From his relaxed movements, he hardly even seemed injured, which puzzled Mark. With what he had seen last night, and the evidence of the bloodstains on his couch, that should not have been possible. Unless the boy was just really good at hiding his pain, or had high pain tolerance.

Mark decided to break the silence with a proper introduction. He couldn’t keep calling him “Strange Boy” in his head.

“My name is Mark,” he said, the stranger locking eyes with him when he spoke. “What’s yours?”

The boy’s eyebrows raised, and a grin returned to his face. “Humans called me Haechan when I was here last… but you can call me Donghyuck,” he said, then added, “since I owe you my life, and all.”

Mark decided to actively ignore the “humans” part of that response, and just nodded. “Are those my clothes?”

The boy—Donghyuck—looked down and tugged on the shirt with Mark’s university logo emblazoned on it. “If your clothes were in the other room, yes, I guess they are.” He glances up with a glint in his eye. “My other clothes, as you know, were a little shredded. And bloody.”

As Donghyuck brought up his injury, Mark stood up with the intention of checking it himself, but then felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. “Ugh, what the hell is this headache…” He took a few steps, but lost his balance halfway towards the boy. He stumbled forward, caught from falling by arms that instantly support him at the waist. Mark grabbed ahold of him, head falling on the other’s shoulder.

He stayed like that for a moment, the throbbing behind his closed eyes overwhelming any other thoughts of moving. He realized soon though how he had grabbed onto Donghyuck—arms over his shoulders and hands pressing against his back for support. Mark let go and drew back, now only supported by Donghyuck’s own hands on his waist and now shoulder.

“Shit, your back. I’m so sorry, you’re injured, I didn’t mean to…”

The dizziness made Mark’s gaze cloudy, yet he still recognized Donghyuck’s head moving towards his own. Their foreheads touched, and Mark’s breath hitched. He couldn’t believe this boy’s affect on him—maybe he could blame it on the damn migraine. For a moment Mark almost thought that Donghyuck was going to kiss him again, but he just closed his eyes and started murmuring something Mark couldn’t quite make out, despite their closeness.

Mark’s migraine dissipated as the seconds ticked by, as if a soothing salve had been applied to his brain. As weird as it sounded, it felt even weirder. Although Donghyuck’s eyes remained closed, Mark’s opened wider as his hazy vision cleared, though it seemed to become too clear, as he noticed something strange. A faint glow seemed to emanate from Donghyuck’s skin, making the beautiful boy even more ethereal. Mark’s breathing was light, afraid to do anything to disturb whatever the boy so close to him was doing. He had no idea what was happening or why, but the disappearance of the aches in his body seemed to suggest that whatever it was, it was something good.

Donghyuck stopped speaking as the last of the pains faded, then opened his eyes and smiled. Leaning back again and grasping both of Mark’s shoulders now, he asks, “How’s that? Feeling better?”

“Uh… yeah.” Mark nodded, then also stepped back. Their distance felt weird, even though it shouldn’t have, since they were still strangers. “Uh… what about you?” Mark changed the subject, still processing the strange moment they had just shared. “How are you even walking right now?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Donghyuck said. “Well, not really. I mean, I don’t have my wings anymore, but I’m doing the healthy thing and suppressing that thought for now.” He flashed a smile, but it was less a ray of sunshine and more like a flickering fluorescent bulb—the pain in his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. Mark didn’t get to reply, as Hyuck spun around and continued, “I know Doyoung’s got a stick up his ass when it comes to Pop’s orders, but maiming me mid-air?” His voice lowered as he spoke, the disbelief evident yet overpowered by subtle anger. “I’ll make him pay for that…”

Mark only understood one part of that answer: his back was fine. “Okay… I’m glad you’re feeling better now?” Although he meant it as a statement, it still came out sounding like a question. He was about to ask about the whole headache and glowing thing, when he noticed Donghyuck plop himself down on the couch, on the end with the least amount of dried bloodstains. Donghyuck noticed him looking, and sent him a wink.

“It’s all thanks to you… Mark, right? Aren’t I lucky to have landed in the backyard of such a trusting human.”

Mark didn’t know if he had meant for his words to sound a bit sinister, but in any case, his cryptic uses of the words “human”, “grace”, and “wings” had finally gotten to Mark.

“Why do you keep saying human like that?” He blurted out.

“Because you are one?” Hyuck said slowly, as if it were a stupid question.

Mark scoffed and crossed his arms. “What, and you aren’t?” he asks, regretting his words almost immediately, as everything that had happened between them finally began to compile into an affirmative answer, despite its impossibility.

“Duh. I’m an angel—well, I was one. Hadn’t you figured that out yet?” Mark’s eyes widened, and he continued, “Hmm, I guess not… I thought I’d made it obvious, though?” He laughed as he picked up the TV remote and started pressing random buttons.  
Mark didn’t want to believe him, but he had to admit to himself that if angels were real, and if Donghyuck was one, this situation could easily be explained. Or, was he a fallen angel? His lack of wings and Donghyuck’s own words seemed to confirm this.

Mark realized that he’d been standing there with his mouth gaping open, so he closed it. He was still formulating a reply when the TV suddenly came to life, Donghyuck pressing the power button while playing with it. Based on his reaction, Mark realized Donghyuck hadn’t known what he was doing. The boy—angel—startled, especially since the channel happened to be broadcasting a particularly violent war movie. Gunshot sounds and explosions rocked the apartment. The volume had been turned to the maximum setting when Mark had some friends over, and he hadn’t lowered it before turning it off.

Donghyuck quickly dropped the remote and leapt over the back of the couch to hide behind it. Mark almost laughed at the reaction, until he noticed that Donghyuck wasn’t emerging from behind the couch. Mark grabbed the remote from where it had fallen and lowered the volume as he walked around behind the couch. What he found surprised him, and any thoughts of mocking Donghyuck’s reaction disappeared.

The angel had sprawled himself on the ground, as close to the couch as he could get, hands covering his head as he seemed to tremble in fear. It was one thing to be startled by loud noises, and another to remain frightened in such a position after the sounds had stopped. Mark rushed to his side, sensing something wrong even though he wasn’t exactly sure what it was.  
Once he was closer, Mark could hear Donghyuck repeat something to himself over and over, though he couldn’t quite make it out. His hands clenched into fists, and Mark tentatively reached towards him. “Donghyuck, are you alright? I turned to TV off,” he said in a soothing voice, hand resting on the angel’s shoulder.

Mark felt Donghyuck flinch under his touch, and at a speed that Mark’s eyes could not register he bolted from his position on the floor to huddle in the corner of the room, underneath one of the windows. He crouched there, gaze roaming wildly, and to Mark it seemed that he wasn’t taking in his actual surroundings. Gone from his eyes was the sparkling glint that had been there even when he was injured, and Mark’s presence didn’t even register when Donghyuck looked in his direction.

Not wanting to startle him any more, nor cause him to flee at that superhuman speed he had just witnessed, Mark made his way over, wary of the angel’s gaze and waiting for him to actually see him. This didn’t happen until he had gotten very close, luckily. Pulling Donghyuck’s own move from earlier, Mark grasped his face and pulled him forward, making sure that they were making true eye contact. Donghyuck latched himself to Mark’s shirt.

“Donghyuck, it’s Mark. Can you hear me?” Mark asked, slightly stern in an attempt to pull the boy out of whatever scene—memory—whatever it was he experiencing. “You’re safe, Donghyuck, you’re safe. We’re in my apartment, do you remember?”  
His grip loosened as Mark spoke, breaths evening out as he returned to the present. To Mark, he gradually nodded, forehead bumping Mark’s. As he calmed down, Mark released his hold on Donghyuck’s face, sitting back. Judging from what happened, it almost seemed like an effect of PTSD, though Mark couldn’t be sure. He was just connecting the war scene cacophony with Donghyuck’s reaction and the position he had taken on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck said, closing his eyes. Mark almost missed it, he spoke so softly.

Mark was about to shake his head, deny the apology by saying there was nothing to be sorry about, when the moment was interrupted by fierce knocking on a door—specifically, the door leading upstairs. Mark’s head snapped towards the sound, wincing at the words—and Japanese swears he didn’t understand—that accompanied the knocks.

“Mark Lee, why the hell are you watching a war movie, at full volume, at seven fucking A.M?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts and/or suggestions in the comments, as well as any predictions of what will happen next!  
> also feel free to DM me on twitter (@tencitizens)!


	3. landlords and bookshops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donghyuck explains a few things to Mark after meeting his landlords. Meanwhile, two angels visit Vision Bookshop, looking for information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter three! enjoy :)  
> also, follow me on twitter, @tencitizens !

Mark looked to Donghyuck, then back at the door, and finally at the bloody couch behind him. Neither the fallen angel in his apartment nor the evidence of last night’s events would be easily explained to Yuta, the source of the expletives heard in the stairwell. Well, he wouldn’t have any issues with Mark having someone over, but the couch was the main concern. Jumping to his feet, he hustled over to the door and opened it a crack, determined to apologize for the noise and keep Yuta out of the basement.

His “landlord” was mid-knock when Mark peeked through. Before Yuta could say anything, Mark forced a smile and said in a rush, “I’m so sorry, hyung, I forgot to turn the volume down the last time I turned my TV off, so it was really loud this morning! It won’t happen again, promise!” He went to close the door again, even though it would probably seem a bit rude.

The door halted when Yuta gripped the edge, and Mark had to stop so he didn’t accidentally crush his fingers. Mark looked up at Yuta’s face, which no longer bore the sleepy, disgruntled expression he had before. He now studied Mark’s face, picking up on the subtle note of stress in his previous words.

A voice from upstairs called for Yuta, muffled from the distance but still distinguishable as saying “Leave him be, Yuta. We had to get up soon, anyways.”

Unfortunately for Mark, Yuta ignored his boyfriend upstairs, and instead observed Mark’s defensive posture. “Is everything alright, kid?” he asked, “You look a bit stressed.”

“Stressed?” Mark said, voice cracking, which he tried to play off with a laugh. “No, hyung, I’m fine! Great, actually, no need to worry about me.”

Mark’s acting skills were nowhere on par with Sicheng’s, the theatre major upstairs, and Yuta obviously did not believe Mark at all. He tried to get a look inside, but Mark shifted to block his view. A lightbulb appeared to go off over Yuta’s head, and Mark dreaded what his enlightened expression meant.

“Did the apartment flood last night?” Yuta ended up asking, to Mark’s surprise.

“No, it didn’t flood, hyung. Really, everything is fine—” Mark looked behind him, still blocking Yuta’s view, and made eye contact with Donghyuck. The angel had made his way over to the couch, and had draped Mark’s blanket over the worst of the bloodstains on the couch. Smart, Mark thought.

And just in time. Yuta must have concluded that flooding was why Mark wouldn’t let him see into the basement, and he used Mark’s momentary distraction to gently force his way inside, causing Mark to stumble backwards a bit. “Kid, just let me check the damage, you’re renting from us so it’s our job…” he trailed off as he entered, finally seeing Donghyuck.

The angel straightened his posture and crossed his arms, tilting his head to assess the man. Mark stayed silent, unsure of what to say and afraid that if he did say anything, he’d blurt out something related to angels that would further confuse Yuta and make Mark seem off his rocker.

Yuta came to his senses after a moment, and looked back and forth between the two boys, realizing that he was intruding on… something. “Oh. I didn’t realize you had company over.” He turned back to Mark, luckily not noticing the couch. “Sorry, Mark.” He waved his arm vaguely at their surroundings. “No flooding?”

Mark tried to keep his cool, even though he was almost bursting from the awkwardness and miscommunications. He shook his head, “No flooding.”

Donghyuck continued studying Yuta, remaining silent. His expression changed, however, from curiosity to something like suspicion when another person appeared in the doorway.

“Didn’t I say to leave the poor kid alone, Yuta?” Sicheng chided his boyfriend, looking inside the apartment. He glanced at Mark, then Donghyuck for a beat longer, and finally settled on Yuta. “Come help me run lines before class.”

Yuta nodded and began to leave. Before Sicheng closed the door behind himself and Yuta, he once again looked between Donghyuck and Mark. The former wore a frown, and the latter’s eyes darted between his landlord and the angel. Sicheng just smiled, said a rushed, “So sorry about him,” and closed the door, oblivious to the strange tension.

Mark let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That was close,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “They didn’t notice the couch… I guess they only noticed you.”

Donghyuck’s calculating gaze had shifted to Mark, and it made the boy uncomfortable. They hadn’t yet discussed Donghyuck’s supposed panic attack, but it looked like that was the last thing on the fallen angel’s mind. He seemed to have recovered, and now had hyper-focused on Mark. Walking towards him, he stared into Mark’s eyes just like he had the night before, and Mark wondered if eyes really were windows to the soul, and if Donghyuck was examining his.

Hyuck leaned into Mark’s personal bubble space, and naturally Mark bent backwards to try to maintain it. “You know Dong Sicheng.”

Mark took a second to register his words. “Ye—wait, _you_ know Sicheng?”

Donghyuck squinted and tilted his head. “Not personally. But I know of him. How close are you two?”

Mark shook his head, “I don’t know, he’s, uh, my landlord? He and Yuta are dating and own the house… wait, why would you know about some random college student?” A thought popped into his head, “Oh my God, is he human? He has to be, he’s dating Yuta, and he lives on Earth and—wait, do _you_ live on Earth? Oh my God, when you fell outside, did you literally fall from Heaven? Wait, is there a HELL? OH MY GOD—”

He was cut off by Donghyuck who rolled his eyes and poked Mark’s forehead. “Please stop mentioning my dad, it really is annoying how that phrase is so common now. Or maybe it’s just you?” Mark snapped his mouth shut at the too-true words—his friends often teased him about how much he said it, and now it was even more embarrassing that he kept saying “oh my God” in front of a freaking angel. Fallen angel. Whatever.

Donghyuck went back to the stare off, answering Mark’s first question. “Dong Sicheng knows things… and people… that has landed him a spot on our radar.” Seemingly satisfied that Mark was indeed clueless, he stepped back a bit and crossed his arms, a smirk appearing on his face. “To answer your other questions, no I don’t live on Earth, but I didn’t fall from Heaven directly. I was flying overhead when… well, you know.” Donghyuck looked away, saying under his breath but just loud enough that Mark still heard, “Fucking Doyoung.”

Neither said anything for a moment, and Mark felt tension due to the subject turn. Wracking his brain for ways to lift the mood, he settled on asking, “And Hell? If there’s a Heaven…”

Donghyuck looked back at Mark. He seemed about to answer, when his expression changed. For some reason the suspicion returned, and instead of answering Mark he asked, “Why am I bothering to tell you all of this?”

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, unsure if the question was rhetorical. Donghyuck shook his head, to clear it perhaps. He straightened his posture and rested one hand on Mark’s shoulder, in that awkward, ‘I’m proud of you, son’ position, distanced but with a firm grip. “Listen, I’m grateful for your help, Mark, and I owed you a bit of an explanation for my wounds and your headache.” He glanced at the closed stairwell door. “I admit that Dong Sicheng threw me off a bit, and that cursed noise machine from earlier also startled me. Thank you for pulling me back from that, by the way.”

Mark tried to respond—this was becoming a thing, wasn’t it?—but Donghyuck continued, “In any case, I’ve overstayed my welcome. Since I’ve fallen, I’m… limited… in my abilities to pay you back, but let’s just say I owe you.” He winked. “The first thing I’ll repay are these clothes, I promise.”

With that, Donghyuck was gone. With the super-human speed Mark witnessed earlier, he left in a blur, the door to his bedroom swinging open and the door leading outside clanging shut within milliseconds of one another. Mark stood dumbstruck for a few moments. So many groundbreaking revelations that impacted his perception of the world had just occurred, he didn’t know how to wrap his head around them. And now the only source of information on this hidden knowledge had—poof!—disappeared. It hurt his brain.

But what hurt his heart the most, though he couldn’t grasp why, was the fact that he didn’t get to say goodbye.

~~~

The sun had only just risen when the two angels landed gracefully in the vacant alleyway. The shorter shook his charcoal-colored wings, which were damp due to the wispy storm-cloud remnants that remained from the night before, and groaned as he retracted them slowly. The taller also did so with his, throwing on a coat to hide them. Neither angel felt too bothered by the chill in the spring air, but it was a suitable method to blend in.

Xiaojun, the shorter, moved slower than Jungwoo, the taller. “This is the worst part,” he whined. “I feel so… constricted.”

Jungwoo laughed, passing him the other coat he had brought. “You get used to it,” he said. “It’s just been a while since you were last down here.”

Xiaojun just groaned again as he put on the coat. Both now looked like walking bundles of clothes, but so did any other human they would come across. At least it wasn’t summer, Xiaojun thought. Sweltering in long trench coats was far worse, in his opinion.

Exiting the alleyway, they made their way down the street. They didn’t need to go far, and soon they stood outside their destination: Vision Bookshop.

“I know why we’re here,” Xiaojun said, referring to their mission, “but why this place specifically?” he asked Jungwoo. The other angel had directed both of them to the bookshop right after they received their orders from Taeil, who had gotten them from Above.

“I believe the owner may be able to help,” Jungwoo replied, gazing up at the sign, “but leave the conversation to me, alright?”

Xiaojun nodded, still perplexed on how a human could help them. “Who is the owner?”

“Qian Kun.”

Xiaojun startled at the name. He looked in the window of the glass door to see within, noticing a hanging closed sign but no apparent danger. “How can we trust him?” Xiaojun asked. “Isn’t he half—”

Jungwoo gripped his shoulder and squeezed. Xiaojun sensed his emotions instantly. The other felt determined, and slightly upset. When Xiaojun looked at the other angel, he could tell the latter emotion was directed at him.

“Yes, he is,” Jungwoo answered, “but he is also half-angel. One side doesn’t negate the other, Xiaojun.”

Xiaojun knew he could trust Jungwoo. Out of all the other angels, he had been sent on the most missions to Earth, and there was no doubt that Jungwoo knew who were their allies. If he trusted this Qian Kun, so would Xiaojun. However, he didn’t forget Jungwoo’s warning to leave the talking to him. Perhaps they were only tentative allies in this ongoing struggle. There was bound to be tension between angels and a half-demon, in any situation. But like Jungwoo had said, he should not dismiss Qian’s angel half.

Xiaojun shifted his focus to the task at hand as Jungwoo released his shoulder and walked toward the bookshop entrance. It was early in the day, and the shop was obviously closed, but Xiaojun could sense someone’s presence inside.

Jungwoo pushed the door and walked inside. Xiaojun was surprised to find it unlocked; perhaps the person inside had forgotten to lock it when they first came in. A bell chimed with the door’s movement as Xiaojun slipped inside behind Jungwoo.

Xiaojun looked around, both taking in his surroundings and searching for potential threats. He found none upon first inspection; no misplaced shadows nor fluctuating darkness that could betray a lurking demon. His gaze was drawn to the left a moment later, due to a surprised voice that said, “Oh, I’m sorry, we haven’t opened yet. That door should have been locked…”

Behind a counter piled high with books, a boy peered around to get a look at the supposed customers. Jungwoo smiled brightly, and Xiaojun copied him, though less enthusiastically, as he was still wary. Was that Qian Kun? He definitely wasn’t what Xiaojun had been expecting, if he was.

The boy had brown hair and appeared quite young in human years, though Xiaojun knew that Qian was not human at all and therefore did not age at the same rate. Both demons and angels aged extremely slowly compared to humans. The boy cleared some books from the counter and looked at a clock that hung on the wall. “I suppose it’s close enough to opening time, though. Can I help you two find anything?” He smiled politely.

Xiaojun concentrated solely on the boy, vision wavering for a moment as he mentally pushed himself to concentrate his grace energy to see the boy’s aura. Although he was proficiently trained in all aspects of his abilities, he found visualizing others’ emotions the hardest, and preferred sensing them through touch. Unfortunately that was not appropriate in most social circumstances. The boy’s aura was mixture of light orange with a hint of light green, suggesting a warm disposition and some underlying anxiety.

“Actually,” Jungwoo said, “we were hoping to speak with the owner.”

Still deep in concentration on the boy’s aura, Xiaojun was astonished at how quickly the colors changed after Jungwoo’s words. To humans, the only sign of change was the boy’s smile dipping for a moment, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. To Xiaojun, the pleasant orange darkened into a reddish brown mixed with shocking streaks of purple, suggesting sudden defensive mood shift with pillars of loyalty. Evidently, this was not Qian Kun, but someone rather close to him. Interesting.

“May I know who is asking for him?” the boy asked, maintaining the same polite smile, but with Xiaojun’s knowledge of his true feelings, it now seemed duplicitous. Xiaojun hadn’t noticed his own expression returning to its default seriousness until the boy’s gaze shifted to him and a flash of mustard yellow appeared in human’s aura.

Fear. The angel was sometimes teased by the others for the intensity of his stare when his mind wandered. Xiaojun looked around the bookshop again, and actually stepped away a bit to pretend to look at a shelf of… romance novels. If they wanted information, intimidation was not the tactic to use, and Jungwoo was the best at lowering people’s guards.

“We’re just looking for someone, that’s all,” Jungwoo assured, and avoided the boy’s question. “We would appreciate any information Mr. Qian may have.”

“I’m afraid you have the wrong business,” the boy said, smile finally falling into a frown. “We sell books here, sir. Not intel.”

No one said anything for a moment, until the melody of Jungwoo’s laughter punctured the silence. The boy hadn’t expected that reaction, it was clear to Xiaojun, though the angel had lost his concentration and could no longer examine his aura. It simply showed on his face.

Jungwoo stepped closer to the counter, squinting. “Yangyang, is it?” he asked, and Xiaojun also noticed the boy’s name-tag then, though he couldn’t read it from his position at the bookshelf. Jungwoo straightened and snapped his fingers. “Ah yes! Your brother is Dong Sicheng, now I remember.” Jungwoo chuckled at Yangyang’s widening eyes. “No need to worry, kid. We’re the nice ones.”

Xiaojun noted how Yangyang didn’t appear any more relaxed, but he could tell that the boy understood the meaning behind Jungwoo’s words. If Dong Sicheng was his brother, then he definitely knew Qian Kun. According to their files, that family had raised the non-human hybrid as their own, covering up his decelerated aging for decades. Therefore, he had to know about angels, and everything else.

“ _Nice_ can be very different from _good_.” Yangyang crossed his arms, still tense. “I’ll tell him you stopped by.” He then looked over at Xiaojun, and Xiaojun looked back at the shelf quickly, surprised. He grabbed a random book and looked at the back.

“Find anything to your interest?” the boy asked, raising his voice a bit.

Xiaojun looked back at the boy, then Jungwoo. The latter was also looking at him, seemingly amused at the exchange. Xiaojun looked at the book, blushing a bit as he noticed it was a cliché romance paperback.

Without his aura to guide the angel, Xiaojun had no clue as to Yangyang’s true thoughts. A moment ago he had appeared to be intimidated, but now the look in his eyes was mischievous. Xiaojun returned the novel to its place, shook his head, then walked back towards Jungwoo.

“A man of few words, huh?” Yangyang said, and Jungwoo laughed. The boy behind the counter looked at the chuckling angel. “You know who I am, but I don’t know you. Any names I can pass on to my boss? Do you people have business cards, or something?”

Xiaojun actually smiled at that, and he saw Yangyang notice. Jungwoo answered him, “Just tell him Zeus came by. If he asks why…” Jungwoo and Xiaojun looked at each other. How much should they tell this human?

He didn’t fully understand why, but something told Xiaojun to trust the boy, despite the difficulty he had in reading Yangyang’s personality. One moment he was defensive, the other confident. Perhaps it was the vibrancy of that loyal purple he had glimpsed in his aura.

“Tell him we’re looking for someone who goes by Haechan,” Xiaojun said, speaking for the first time since they entered the bookshop. He looked away from Jungwoo and over the counter at Yangyang. Their eyes met, and the human raised an eyebrow. “Any information would help.”

Jungwoo’s hand rested on his shoulder again, and Xiaojun felt relieved when the emotions he sensed did not include disapproval. Rather, Jungwoo was simply calm, and perhaps a little amused still.

“We’ll be going now,” Jungwoo said, “Qian knows where he can find us. Nice to meet you, Yangyang. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

Yangyang simply nodded, arms still crossed. Xiaojun was still looking at the boy as Jungwoo lead him towards the door. He bowed his head as he left, mumbling a quick, “Goodbye.” The bell chimed with the door, and the sound almost caused Xiaojun to miss Yangyang’s own hesitant farewell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there ya go! let me know what you think ~ did you like the new characters? have any suggestions or guesses for the future plot?  
> you may have noticed I added some more tags also! ;)


	4. illusions and allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark sees something he can’t explain, and Donghyuck reaches out for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter four! enjoy :)  
> so sorry it’s been so long since the last chapter... classes really held me hostage.  
> BUT! I saw NCT 127 in Newark and felt inspired ~ so here we go!
> 
> also, follow me on twitter, @tencitizens ! If anyone wants to beta-read as well, feel free to DM me there!

Mark hoisted his bag up over his shoulder as the subway car came to a stop. Living off campus gave him more independence, but it also meant a commute to his classes. A few other passengers stood as well, including some students like him and others simply going about their day. As the doors slid open, Mark couldn’t help but watch everyone around him. No, he wasn’t looking for a particular angelic face, he told himself. He had already done that outside of his apartment on the way to the closest station. Now armed with the knowledge that the fantastical stories and lessons from church had elements of truth, that angels, and he assumed demons, existed, Mark took in his surroundings more carefully than he ever had before.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary around him, and everyone appeared oblivious to the tumultuous thoughts bouncing around in Mark’s head. He realized that there was no reason for things to change around him, as it was just Mark’s perception of the world that had changed.

According to the little information he had gleaned from Donghyuck before the fallen angel literally bolted from his apartment, angels didn’t typically live on Earth. But he had said something about flying overhead, so it was safe to assume that they did “visit”, one could say. Mark also remembered how the fallen angel hadn’t answered his last question, about Hell, but had seemed like he was about to. Could there be demons on Earth, then?

Mark shook the thoughts away as he ascended from the underground station. Right across the street from the exit was the main entrance to SMU’s campus, situated not quite in the center of the bustling city, but not too far outside. Mark’s class started in an hour, so he had time to grab some breakfast beforehand.

He began heading towards the campus dining hall, but redirected himself when a particularly tall figure caught his eye. It was hard not to notice Lucas, because of both his height and the enthusiasm with which he gestured when he was excited. Even though it was early in the morning, he was very energetic. Mark picked up his pace to catch up with his friend.

As he got closer, he noticed to whom Lucas spoke with such enthusiasm to. Lucas’s boyfriend Renjun, who was short enough to blend in with the crowd of students, nodded along to whatever psychological theory Lucas was explaining, probably pretending to understand. Mark had noticed recently however that Renjun seemed to absorb Lucas’s words more easily, and that he could voice a few of his own thoughts on the subjects. Lucas had yet to mirror that regarding Renjun’s knowledge of architecture.

“Hey, guys,” Mark said, bumping into Lucas and interrupting the rather one-sided conversation, though Lucas wasn’t annoyed. Rather, the boy bumped into Mark right back with a grin, Renjun laughing as Mark stumbled a bit.

“Hey! What’s up, man?” Lucas steadied Mark with one hand. “You’re here early.”

“Yeah, well, this morning has been a little hectic. I thought I’d head out a bit sooner, clear my head before class.”

The trio began walking towards one of the main buildings, through a small courtyard area. Mark remembered Lucas complaining about having a general education course focused on Nietzsche at 8:30 in the morning.

“Hectic?” Renjun asked. “What happened? You live off campus, right?”

Although Mark and Lucas were close because they were roommates last year under assigned housing, he hadn’t gotten to know Renjun that well yet. He and Lucas had started dating over the summer, and when Renjun decided to go to SMU, they got an apartment together.

Mark didn’t know how to explain that an injured angel fell from the sky outside his window, flipping his entire world-view upside-down.

“Yeah. Uh, I had a crazy dream, I guess?”

Lucas looked at Mark. “A crazy dream?”

Mark thought on his feet. “Yeah. Oh, and my TV’s volume was too high and woke up Yuta and Sicheng. So that was awkward.”

“Sicheng? Does he have a brother named Yangyang?” Renjun asked.

“Yeah, actually,” Mark answered. “Do you know him?” Mentioning Sicheng brought back memories of Donghyuck, and the fact that his landlord knew more than it seemed. He’d thought about approaching the elder that morning, but Sicheng had left the house before Mark had a chance to.

“Yangyang’s in one of my architectural history classes. He found this really obscure source at the bookshop he works at part-time that honestly saved our presentation.”

Mark nodded. They had reached the steps of the main building, and the conversation seemed to be ending when Lucas brought up the dream again. “What was your dream about, Mark? Maybe I could help you decipher it.” Lucas winked. “I did get an A on my sleep-studies paper last semester.”

Mark turned to reply to Lucas, but his attention shifted when he saw some sort of commotion happening a few yards behind his friends. Lucas and Renjun followed Mark’s gaze. They had a good view of the crowd gathering from their elevated position on the front steps.

A girl seemed to be panicking in the courtyard, swatting the area around her head and screeching. Mark didn’t understand what was wrong until Renjun said, “What is wrong with those birds?”

Mark squinted to get a better look, but no matter how hard he tried, he could only make out blurred black forms dive-bombing the poor girl and a few other students near her. In fact, they looked nothing like birds.

He was going to question Renjun’s vision when Lucas also chimed in, “Let’s get out of here, they’re coming closer.”

The shadowy forms did in fact appear to be growing in number and advancing their way, though Mark still didn’t understand how his friends were seeing them as birds. Lucas gestured for him to follow them inside, but Mark shook his head. “You guys go ahead,” Mark said, “I need to check something.”

“Hold on, Mark!” Lucas called out, but Mark had already begun jogging towards the courtyard, waving behind him in a dismissive manner. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t see the birds, but the fact that he couldn’t meant whatever they were, they weren’t natural. He stopped on the edge of the grassy area, and noticed the shadow forms were more defined up close. He dodged one of them on instinct, then looked around. Everyone nearby was running away and ducking, except for one person standing in the shadows of a building a few yards away.

The other boy stood there chuckling at the chaos. Mark didn’t recognize him, but he looked to be around the same age. Like Mark his hair was black, and he had rather large eyes. His chuckling actually reminded Mark a bit of a donkey’s braying, but it was endearing on him.

“Hey,” Mark addressed him, and the boy stopped laughing. He seemed surprised that Mark was talking to him. “Do you see that too?” Mark asked.

The boy seemed to be amused at the question, but confused. “The birds? Of course I do.”

Mark took a few steps toward him, shaking his head, then ducking again as a shadowy “bird” got a bit too close. “No,” Mark replied. “They’re not birds.”

It was amazing how quickly the boy’s expression changed, and his eyes even seemed to darken. He turned and briskly walked away, and Mark didn’t know what to make of his abrupt change in demeanor. It seemed that Mark had guessed something right, and this guy knew what those shadow things were.

Something was up. Mark followed him, calling out, “Wait, hold on!”

The boy ignored Mark and only walked faster. He rounded the corner of a building, and for a moment Mark lost sight of him. He hustled to catch up, but upon rounding the corner himself, he was faced with an empty alleyway. All he could see were shadows and a few trash bins, no one in sight. For a moment he thought he saw one of the shadows shift, so he stepped forward to check it out, but then paused. If he took a moment to think, Mark realized that walking into a dark alley was a bad idea. Following someone who could create illusions and then disappear into the shadows was an even worse idea. He backed away, still squinting in the direction the boy had supposedly gone, but seeing no more movement.

From what he had seen Donghyuck do, this guy seemed to have different abilities, and different abilities could mean a different type of being. And with the existence of angels, the only logical conclusion, in this new, illogical world Mark had stumbled upon, would be… demon?

~~~

Donghyuck leaned himself against a light pole, catching his breath. Although he hadn’t used any grace for speed since he left Mark’s apartment, simply walking took a toll on his still-injured body. He had a feeling the human would have let him rest in the basement longer, but he had started asking far too many questions, and Donghyuck had already given him too many answers. Something about the boy seemed to loosen his lips… in more ways than one.

Donghyuck chuckled at the memory of Mark’s shocked face. He saw it many times, with all the shocking things Donghyuck did. He didn’t have time to dwell on it though, and he probably wouldn’t see the human again anyways.

The one thing that Donghyuck didn’t expect was to see Dong Sicheng that morning, in the flesh. Before, he had just been a photograph in a file that Donghyuck had read as part of his training, and it wasn’t even a file on Sicheng himself. No, a mere human didn’t warrant such heavy attention of angels. Rather, it was the hybrid being associated with his family. Listed as a neutral force in the centuries-long conflict, Qian Kun was Donghyuck’s best hope for help.

Kun didn’t look a day over twenty-four, but his looks were deceiving. Half-demon, half-angel, he had gained the same decelerated aging as both beings, but for some reason it was only about one-third the rate of humans’. According to the file, he was born in 1945, when Donghyuck was almost two centuries old himself. An orphan because of his parentage, and abandoned on Earth due to neither side accepting his existence, he was adopted by Dong Sicheng’s great grandfather. Not much time had passed before the family realized Kun was different. In 1960, he looked only five years old, yet had the mental age equal to his actual age. He also grew into certain abilities he inherited from both of his bloodlines.

It was risky, but Donghyuck had nowhere else to turn. Not many allies resided on Earth, and although technically neutral, Qian Kun was the closest, and at that moment, Donghyuck didn’t think he could physically go much further than across the street.

After questioning a few passerby, he had found his way to Vision Bookshop, which was owned by Qian, according to the file. It was late morning, and the sun warmed Donghyuck’s skin as he leaned against the light pole. Having caught his breath, Donghyuck focused his grace to scope out the establishment, faintly sensing one presence inside. The exertion and use of grace made him dizzy, but he was able to cross the street a few moments later with only a little difficulty.

Donghyuck cautiously opened the door, the chiming bells that accompanied the movement startling him a bit. He walked—well, stumbled—inside. The shop appeared to be a normal bookshop, and he noticed someone turn to greet in from behind the counter.

“Hello! Can I help you find anything?”

Donghyuck noted the boy’s name tag, which read ‘Yangyang’. “I’m looking for Qian Kun,” he said bluntly.

The boy’s eyes widened a bit, and Donghyuck also noticed his slight frown taint the customer service smile he originally sported. The fallen angel advanced to the counter, and Yangyang took a slight step back. Donghyuck leans forward, both arms supporting his upper half on the counter, too weary to stand up straight.

“I’m guessing from the look on your face that I’m not the first.”

Yangyang regained his composure, eyeing Donghyuck. His gaze flickered over the angel’s shoulder, then to his eyes. Checking for wings? Pitch-black irises? Donghyuck could tell the boy knew more than the average human.

Finally Yangyang spoke. “My boss isn’t here today.”

Donghyuck looked down, then squeezed his eyes shut. A wave of heavy fatigue washed over him, causing him to fall forward onto the counter when one of his arms gave out. The movement knocked a few books to the floor, and Yangyang gasped in surprise. Donghyuck rested his forehead on the smooth wooden surface.

“Are… are you okay?” he heard Yangyang ask hesitantly.

Donghyuck just groaned. His body felt like it was about to fall apart. He shouldn’t have sped out of Mark’s place like that, it wasted too much of the grace that had been healing him.

After a moment, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and Donghyuck vaguely registered the emotion of concern flow through the touch. He also could sense the human’s grace, in far higher quantities than his own.

Donghyuck lifted his head from the counter, making eye contact with Yangyang. Quickly he shifted to grab the hand touching his shoulder, startling Yangyang. He began reaching out for the human’s light grace energy through their touch.

“Please help me,” he grimaced. He could feel his body shutting down to better self-heal, and his eyes began to flutter closed. He felt Yangyang support him suddenly as he swayed again, and then fell unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooooh suspenseful right?
> 
> what do you think Yangyang will do? Who was that guy Mark saw? Can you guess from his description? (spoilers for that last question in the tags, don’t look if you want to be surprised!)
> 
> let me know what you think, and if you have any suggestions! I hope you liked it.
> 
> also follow me on twitter @tencitizens hehe

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts and/or suggestions in the comments, as well as any predictions of what will happen next!


End file.
